Pete's Expert Summary
My human has procured a noisy, flashing plastic slab from a company called "LeapFrog," evidently a manufacturer of trinkets for the less-developed members of her species. Its purpose, as far as I can gather, is to instruct the small, loud human in my house on rudimentary concepts like counting and shapes—things I, of course, mastered long ago. It features pages that react to touch, which could provide a brief, satisfying boop under my paw. The most intriguing element is the erasable pen, a fine-looking stick perfect for batting into the dark abyss under the sofa. However, the promise of incessant, cheerful electronic noises is a grave threat to my afternoon siesta schedule, making this a device to be approached with extreme caution and primarily as a potential source for a new stick toy.
Key Features
- Interactive book helps preschoolers prepare for school and build confidence with replayable learning activities
- Explore counting, colors, shapes, the alphabet and words with six touch-sensitive pages
- Practice letter writing, number matching, shape tracing and line drawing with six marker pages and an erasable pen; Dress for the Weather page encourages kids to choose clothes and draw them on the figure
- Build phonics skills with activities that help children find beginning letters and rhyming words
- Intended for ages 3+ years; requires 2 AA batteries; batteries included for demo purposes only; new batteries recommended for regular use
A Tale from Pete the Cat
It arrived not for me, but for the Small Human, the one who screeches and sometimes attempts to use my tail as a pull-string. The object was presented with great ceremony, a glossy plastic "book" that hummed with a low, electric thrum. I observed from my perch atop the velvet armchair, my tail giving a slow, judgmental thump-thump-thump against the cushion. The Small Human jabbed at it with a clumsy finger, and the device shrieked, "Let's learn our ABCs!" A likely story. This was no mere book; it was a foreign artifact, a portal of some kind. Later, when the house fell into the blessed silence of naptime, I descended for a closer inspection. The artifact lay open on the rug, its pages glowing faintly. These weren't pages of pulped tree, but slick, illustrated surfaces covered in cryptic glyphs and strange beasts. This was not a tool for learning; it was clearly an oracle, a device for divination. The Small Human was too primitive to understand its true purpose, interpreting its profound pronouncements as simple "games." I, however, am Pete. I know a conduit to the Great Beyond when I see one. With the careful precision of a seasoned hunter, I extended a single, pristine white paw and pressed it upon a shimmering image of a triangle. A cheerful, disembodied voice announced, "Triangle! Find the triangle!" A test, then. A challenge from the ether. Of course, I knew the answer, but I was after bigger truths. My gaze fell upon the pen, holstered in its plastic sheath. I nudged it with my nose. The oracle remained silent. The pen was a decoy, a mundane distraction. The true magic was in the touch. I pressed another symbol, this one a stylized image of a fish. "F is for Fish!" the oracle boomed. The message was clear. The prophecy had been delivered. Fish! It was a sign from the universe, channeled through this gaudy plastic intermediary. The oracle had spoken my future, and my future was savory and flaky. I gave the device a slow blink of approval. While its aesthetics were an offense to my sophisticated sensibilities, and its voice an assault on my delicate ears, its function as my personal cosmic advisor was undeniable. This "LeapFrog" book could stay. Now, I simply had to sit in the middle of the kitchen and stare intently at the human until she, too, understood the prophecy and opened the correct can. The oracle must be obeyed.
